Memories of Death: Goodbye
by Skye1
Summary: At the end of the fifth year everything that took place (in Harry and the Heir of Evil) has come undone leaving Draco Malfoy to attend a funeral and reflect on the past year. MAJOR SPOILER ALERT
1. Chapter One: The Rain

Memories of Death: Goodbye  
  
I still get lost in your eyes,  
And it seems that  
I can't live a day without you.  
Closing my eyes and  
You chase my thoughts away  
To a place where,  
I am blinded by the light,  
But it's not right...  
  
Goodbye to you,  
Goodbye to everything  
I thought I knew.  
You were the one I loved,  
The one thing that  
I tried to hold on to.  
  
But it was only rain.  
  
Hiding in the gloomy shadows, his cobalt eyes watched expressionlessly as the dozens of wizards and witches stood in a circle around the coffin, crying softly as Albus Dumbledore spoke. Listening to the noise of the tears, which blended with the soft pitter-patter of the rain Draco Malfoy leaned his back against an aged tree.  
  
Although the thought of a Muggle priest had been considered for the funeral Draco knew he was the only one who had known her true opinion on the non- magic folk, especially on their religions. It was odd that the cause of their first meeting had been a total lie, but from then on she had been almost completely honest with him. And he with her, for the most part. They were alike, yet totally dissimilar. Maybe that was why it had happened the way it did.  
  
Watching Potter at the front of the line, not caring as the water soaked him to the bone Draco's attention returned to the greying Headmaster. It wasn't right that she would have a sort of Muggle funeral. She was to be buried in the ground, rather than transfigured into a star, as she had told him she wanted. She would never want to be buried in the fashion of Muggle religion, but he admitted he was most likely the only one that knew so.  
  
She had detested religion with a passion, but in a moment of honesty she had admitted it was because she did not understand-Not that he had paid much attention to the matter at the time of course. The conversation had quickly changed to an idle topic, like which teacher had annoyed them the most that day, or had it been Quidditch? Looking back he didn't remember.  
  
It was odd how many of the memories were now squished together. He remembered them of course, but they all seemed collectively packed into his mind for fear he would lose them. A scowl crossed his pale face. A Malfoy feared nothing. Not even death. But then again, a Malfoy felt nothing as well. Except for allegiance to the Dark Lord of course, but you couldn't really feel that, could you? No, as a Malfoy it was your duty to feel nothing-Or at least that was how it was supposed to be.  
  
But why then did he feel so.. Emotional? If it were not for the pain he felt, he would have been disgusted with himself. And in a way he was, which only added to the ache. It had been two weeks since the night below the lake, and not for a single instant had the pain ceased. When he woke his thoughts were of her, when he past the day she was all he could think about and when he slept. Sleeping was by far the worse, for in when he slept he dreamt. In dreams he saw her clearly, almost as clearly as he had in the day but in the night he could not be pulled out. In his dreams, and sometimes during the day she came to him, never angry or vengeful only sad. The delusion smelt like her, looked like her, spoke like her and no doubt tasted like her as well, which only tormented him more. If someone had told him a year ago that he would be going through this very agony he would have laughed. After all it had all started as a task, orders from the Dark Lord himself.  
  
His Father and Mother had dragged him to a summer's eve celebration at one of the Minister's manors in Kyle of Localsh, up in Scotland. Draco knew very well that Lord Voldemort had returned to flesh; he had heard the conversation between his parents the day he had returned from Hogwarts, and the sole purpose of attending this benefit was to quell the whispers.. Even if they were all true. But after receiving an owl, Draco's father told him some very interesting news. Apparently there was going to be a young witch, his age in attendance at the event. This girl was in fact the Hogwarts Headmaster's Goddaughter, and order had come from their Lord that Draco was needed.  
  
'An insider could be extremely useful to our Lord.' His father had said as they stood in the Drawing Room. 'He's said he wants her turned to our side, and that it will not be too difficult, that the process began the day she was born. There's something he is not telling me, but in time I will come to know. She's smart Draco. You'll have to be careful. But she could be exceptionally valuable.' It was quite uncommon for his father to receive and owl and then call for Draco and so he knew that this task must be unusually significant to the cause. He had accepted of course without delay, but it was not as if he could not.  
  
He saw her first, descending the great stairwell in delicate shade of lilac escorted by an older wizard. Her blond curls were pulled back into an elegant design and strangely resembled pigtails. Her face was childlike, and seemed to portray a hopeful sense of regal innocence.  
  
He couldn't help but smirk confidently; this would be all too easy. Like seducing that little blond tart in Hufflepuff into throwing the Quidditch match. Of course there were certain. aspects of this girl that were very womanly indeed, but still she seemed utterly innocent. As their eyes met for a brief instant it was as if Draco's world fell silent. This would be the beginning-No-His beginning. In this very moment he had become a true servant of the Dark Lord, doing his bidding, and so it would continue until his dying day.  
  
Her pale face flushed crimson and she averted her eyes. Raising the hem of her robe slightly she pretended to be concerned with making the last step. Draco's smile grew as he watched her, not only was this going to be easy but fun as well. For the first few hours he watched her talking, smiling, her azure eyes twinkling. Obviously that repulsive habit of Dumbledore's was not genetic and had been passed on. On a few occasions she would glance over in his direction and smile playfully. Finally while dancing with an assistant wizard of one of the school governors Draco stepped forward.  
  
"May I cut in?"  
  
The wizard, who couldn't have been more than nineteen years old made an annoyed noise and then turned to face him. The look on his face was priceless; the bravado had crumbled and all that was left was a surprised stare, with his mouth dropping in a comical 'O'.  
  
"I didn't think so." Said Draco without waiting for the mumbled reply. He took her hand in his and smiled, pleased with himself.  
  
"You must be a Malfoy." She commented as they swayed leisurely.  
  
"What gave me away? My hair? Or maybe my eyes? Or the fact that I'm simply dashing?" He asked boldly.  
  
"Actually I was going to say your overconfidence, but yes, that too."  
  
"Ah." He said softly. "And what's your name then?" He knew the answer of course, but it would seem better if he pretended.  
  
"Skye," She replied. "Skye Dumbledore."  
  
Faking a momentary shock, he cocked one eyebrow. "I thought you were on a Muggle study. No wizarding contact."  
  
"I finished." She replied casually. "I thought I was going to go mad."  
  
Draco was intrigued and after a smooth dip he asked, "And why was that?"  
  
"Let's just say I've had more than two lifetimes share of Muggles."  
  
"Really?" He asked, although they both knew it was more of a comment than anything else.  
  
"What about you? I assume you're attending Howarts?"  
  
"I am." He replied. He was only vaguely aware that the song had changed, but she seemed completely oblivious. "Fifth year."  
  
"Brill, so will I." She smiled.  
  
"Oh really? They're letting you skip the first four?" He worried he might have overdone the astonishment in his tone. It hardly surprised him that Dumbledore would let her jump four years of learning. He knew for a fact she was what he had heard referred to as a 'child prodigy'. Apparently she had even made a potion used for breathing in bad conditions, or something around those lines. It was all a bunch of boring rubbish really. But some people thought it was the best thing since house-elfs. His father had told him many times before how Dumbledore pretended to be fair and righteous, but when push came to shove he wasn't against pulling strings.  
  
"Until the Muggle study I grew up at Hogwarts." She explained. "I thought everyone knew about that."  
  
"Now who's the overconfident one?" Draco smiled roguishly, and she grinned clearly embarrassed.  
  
"I lived a large portion of my life at Hogwarts, and so after awhile I just started sneaking in to the classrooms. It's not like they could really stop me, being the Goddaughter of the Headmaster and all." Not quite the most modest thing either Draco noted.  
  
"Had him wrapped around your pinkie a bit didn't you?"  
  
"I wouldn't say that. I'd just say that there were exceptions made for me."  
  
There was a pause; the two of them danced wordlessly, her chin rested on his shoulder. He could not see her face, but Draco was not worried. In fact, he was quite calm. It wasn't until she broke the silence that a single worry crossed his mind.  
  
"I was surprised you actually asked me to dance." She admitted quietly. The song was coming to an end. This was not a good sign. "Bloody shocked actually."  
  
"And why's that?" He asked as he skilfully dipped her for the second time. Years of forced dancing lessons had finally paid off. Outside he seemed calm and collected, but inside his mind was running faster than a Firebolt, worrying. What if she didn't believe him? What if the only opportunity he had to prove himself to the Dark Lord-and to his father passed through the open window? No, it couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it.  
  
"You've got to be pissing me." She spoke frankly, looking up to him.  
  
"Well, I wasn't thinking of doing that-" He said in mock innocence. This was the moment, she either believed him or she didn't. If he failed he would be punished severely, he knew that. But if he succeeded. the possibilities were endless. It was this moment he realized his entire life was tied to this instant. It all depended on this single, succinct moment.  
  
She grinned lopsidedly with a small sigh. "Sorry-It's just I mean-well, I was surprised you'd actually dance with me, being who I am-I mean-You're parents obviously aren't the best of mates with my guardian."  
  
"My decisions are my own." Which was complete and utter bullocks, but she seemed to believe it. Not only was she the innocent prodigy, it seemed she was running for the world's most gullible witch ever award. He would have bet 5 galleons she had a subscription to Teen Witch Weekly. He leaned closely, and whispered in her ear. "And I take what I want."  
  
He heard the faintest surprised gasp escape her, and he smiled pleased with her reaction. They stood for an instant, his arm wrapped around her waist, the other holding hers entirely unaware to the outside world. But the moment faded, and Draco looked into the eyes of his father from across the room. As if speaking without words his father nodded slightly, but never took his eyes off of them. The next thing Draco knew, she was pulling away.  
  
"I've got to be going." She said with a gesture. Standing by the doorway was that numbskull Gryffindor, the Quidditch captain Wood. As he watched the burly Hogwarts graduate put on his cloak Draco felt a slightly less confident. He hadn't known she had come with him. If they knew each other that might compromise the task. If that bluddering sod told her off about him, he'd be up the pitch without a broom.  
  
"Will you be staying long in Kyle?" She asked, pulling him from his thoughts.  
  
"There's a Prides versus Magpies match in a few days. I think we'll be staying until then." He replied casually. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Wood cross the room intently, carrying a white cloak in his arms which could only belong to her.  
  
"Coming Skye?" He asked glaring at Draco.  
  
"Right then." She smiled with a small, polite nod. "Until then, Master Malfoy."  
  
Draco watched as she took the cloak and clasped it on as they walked away. With a small glance over her shoulder she smiled. He stood there watching until they had disappeared into the Floo room, and then smiled incredibly pleased with himself. He had done it. He'd been given a task by the Dark Lord, and he was well on his way to succeeding.  
  
After all, how was he to know it had all been set up? 


	2. Chapter Two: The Match

Chapter Two: The Match   
  
Staying at the Parkinsons' summer villa in Kyle was like being tied down to a desk, surrounded by knarks, while having teeth extracted manually by Filch. Except it was constant. The only time Draco was left to his own devices was when he took his room, which was then always interrupted by Pansy who insisted on sneaking in.   
  
He reported the events of the evening at the Minister's in great detail for his father. He was intrigued, and after a very brief discussion he hurried off into another room; which Draco could only guess was Master Parkinson's private Floo room.   
  
"Dumbledore will be distracted preparing forces, and protecting Potter." His father had said with geat contempt. "He had the girl removed off of the Muggle study because he didn't think she was protected, but if last night is any evidence. I believe your duties will be quite straightforward."   
  
Of course they were straightforward. She had practically jumped into his bleeding arms. Well, maybe not to that exact extent. Upon returning from the Minister's house he had found that she was in fact, in a very odd way, almost intoxicating. Her all together goody-bloody-two shoes act she put on for the adults was revolting; but there in the time it had been just them, he had seen it. There was lonesomeness in her eyes, and strangely enough, he felt able to identify with it.   
  
As Draco sat at the desk in his room he wondered briefly if that under different circumstances he would be attracted to her.. In more than a physical sense of course. She had proper lineage, from what his father had told him. Plenty of money as well, being the great granddaughter of a once Minister of magic. Lived in a manor until one day while she was visiting Dumbledore, her mother was set to death by the Dark Lord. The husband came home, found her dead and mangled corpse, and went completely mad. Been in St. Mungo's ever since, but she'd never gone to see him. He wondered how a person could go their entire life without wanting to meet their parents. Perhaps she didn't even know he was still-   
  
There was a knock at his door, and he turned to face it. "Enter." He called to the visitor.   
  
Sure enough, it was Pansy.   
  
"We're going now."   
  
"Alright." Draco replied and rose quickly.   
  
"What were you doing in here?" She asked curiously, pushing her way into the room.   
  
"Thinking." He replied blatantly, and after grabbing his cloak from his bed he ushered her out of the room. Unfortunately, as they made their way down the stairwell Pansy would not seem to let the topic go.   
  
"About what?"   
  
"Topics that don't concern you." He replied with a scowl.   
  
"Do you think you could make them concern me?" She asked.   
  
"I doubt it."   
  
There was a silence between them, which Draco found very peculiar. Generally he could not get Pansy to shut her mouth, and on those rare occasions that she was quiet he had to physically force her away. One time, one single, never to occur again time he had taken her to a ball. And now the woman was mad, and he seemed to spend every waking moment he could trying to escape her. Well, sometimes she did have her purposes-but she was altogether too clingy. Not that he could blame her.   
  
"Come along then Draco," His father drawled, watching him. "Do not dawdle."   
  
"Yes father." Draco replied automatically. As he watched Pansy touch the portkey he mentally went over every possible situation that might arise at the match and how he would solve it. Reaching out the portkey he felt his adrenaline begin to rush.   
  
*   
  
  
  
"Deliberate blatching! Referee Dean Travers calls it-Yes it is-It's penalty to the Prides!" The announcer shouted excitedly into the magical megaphone. One hour into the game and there was still not a single sign of the snitch, Prides were leading 130 to 100.   
  
Watching the magpies, who up until now Draco had thought of as a good team lose so poorly to those blundering gits; the Prides of Portree, he felt irritated. They were on Lightning Strikes for bleeding sake! It was the premiere of the latest in broom technology and they still weren't able to beat those prats! That and the constant hands of Pansy trying to grope his were about to send him off the far edge of the pitch. Draco silently cursed his parents for 'accidentally' running into Mcnair and had decided to go for lunch. The least his father could have done was take Pansy with them.   
  
Pansy wrapped her hand around his again. He had tried to keep silent, pushing her away but it didn't seem to be working. Obnoxious little tart.   
  
"Pansy-Pansy get off me-Listen to me-Go down-No let me finish my sentence- Go down and get me a bag of Bertie Bott's every flavored bean."   
  
"But Draco," Pansy whined, attempting to bat her eyelashes. "I want to stay here."   
  
"Go."   
  
Pansy looked at him for a moment, her bottom lip sticking out in an attempt to pout. Unfortunately, her nose was taking away from the protruding lip, as always.   
  
"Fine." She huffed. "I'll be right back."   
  
Draco gave a sigh of relief as she walked out of the top box and down the stairs. Finally he was alone. He glanced around, well not really alone per say. But free of Pansy-unfortunately he knew it was only temporary. Holding up his omnioculars he searched the crowd for the Dumbledore girl, but saw her nowhere.   
  
"I just thought I'd pop by and tell you that your impersonation of an inanimate object is really coming along." Said a voice. "When do you start transfiguring?"   
  
Draco turned to speak; Skye Dumbledore sat behind him, her resting her arms on her legs and smiling amusedly.   
  
"Oh really?" He remarked.   
  
"Quite brilliant actually. And that lass-the one with the funny nose."   
  
"Pansy." Draco suggested.   
  
"Right, Pansy. The name fits her well doesn't it?"   
  
"Why do you say that?" Draco asked curiously.   
  
"Well she wilted when you sent her away." She replied bluntly.   
  
"You're feeling rather cheeky today aren't you?"   
  
She gave a lopsided smile, flashing her pearly whites. "I pride myself on my wit."   
  
"So I've noticed." He paced himself through the line, and returned the grin loosely. Her cheeks flushed a little but she didn't seem to take it as an insult. "So where's your bodyguard?   
  
He watched little creases from on her forehead. "What?"   
  
"Wood." He replied simply.   
  
"Ah. Oliver.." She looked over to the seeker still floating above the pitch and then let out a small laugh. "Well. He didn't try to curse you. You've got to admit that's progress."   
  
"I wouldn't put it past him. He doesn't fancy me very much." Said Draco with a flick of his eyebrows; he too looked down the pitch.   
  
"So he told me." Out of the corner of his eye, Draco watched her nod slightly.   
  
"Ah." Anxiety grabbed a hold of him now, and was squeezing at the dry knot in his throat. Her _expression was unreadable, and once again he worried. If that bloody prat Wood ruined this he would-he would-he didn't know what he would do. No one ruins a Malfoy's plans and gets away with it.   
  
Despite the tension spreading through his veins, as he sat in the top box with Dumbledore he felt comfortable. The wind blew faintly, and the scent of delicate lilacs drifted in his nose. He felt a curl land on his cloak but he didn't move.   
  
"But that doesn't mean I think the same."   
  
Draco blinked, registering her words. He turned slowly to look at her, and she shrugged her shoulders. "Oliver may have had an impact on my life before, but after this week. He's been a totally prat lately and-and I'm tired of it. And you.." Her voice trailed off and her forehead was scrunched up again, in deep thought.   
  
"Me..?" Draco persisted.   
  
"You're different-Don't look at me like that. All I mean is-You're different from everyone else in my life."   
  
"What sort of different? Different like 'he's-a-nice-lad-but-I-don't-like- him-like-that', or 'he's-a-dreamy-Quidditch-playing-like-to-get-to-know- him' different?"   
  
Dumbledore laughed. "How bout you just settle for 'mysteriously-charming- with-slightly-narcissistic-tendencies'?"   
  
Malfoy smiled, although at the time he didn't even realize it. "Fine. I s'ppose that'll have to do." 


	3. Chapter Three: Beggining of the End

Chapter Three: The Beginning of the End

  
  
As Draco stepped out of the fire and into the public Floo room of his family's manor he let out an empty sigh. The photograph of his great great grandmother scowled at him as he passed, although he didn't notice.

"Ahh Draco!" Said Narcissa with a vacant smile as she looked over to him from staring up at the ceiling. He dared not look her in the eyes, or he would see that her eyes were distant. Not really there, in the body of her mother. "How was the party?"

"Fine, thank you mother." He replied. There was no real point to correcting her. If he had explained to her that it had been a funeral not a party, chances were she wouldn't understand. After all, a social gathering was simply that. A social gathering. 

On the other hand, she might very well have one of her moments when she seemed together. As if her mind was not wandering off somewhere. But judging by the way her pale face was inclined to the ceiling he could not fool himself.

"Draco darling, ask me what I am doing." His mother said, her dark blue eyes darted across the ceiling.

"What are you doing mother?" He asked.

"I'm going to name a star after you. Just as soon as I find the nicest one."

"That's very kind of you mother." Draco replied serenely. He sat himself down in one of the antique chairs across from her. He watched her count the nonexistent stars in the ceiling for over an hour and finally when he rose, she spoke.

"Will your friend be joining us for dinner tonight?" Narcissa inquired.

"What friend?" Asked Draco genuinely confused.

"The little blond. The one you spent all last summer with." Said Narcissa, and plucked an imaginary star from the ceiling. "I quite liked her. Had good sense in throwing a party. I never get to throw parties anymore."

"No," Draco steadied himself. "She's not."

Part of him silently begged his mother to ask why. To take up the maternal portion of her life she had vacated at such a young age. But this was also the part of him that was silently screaming. Ranting and raving over and over in his mind non-stop.

Narcissa returned her attention to the ceiling, once again counting the stars. With one final glance Draco turned, and left the sitting room.

  
"Now really, zee 'ere!" The French wizard protested. "You can't just show up uninvited. Not to zee Puddlemere parties."

"I'll do as I please." Draco said with a sneer. The annoying wizard in servant black robes couldn't have been much older than Draco himself. Not only was this prat of an attempt security guard speaking with such a thick accent he could barely understand a word that came out of his mouth; now the git was actually trying to stop him from attending the Puddlemere United party. 

And the fact Draco did not have an invitation had absolutely nothing to do with the situation.

"I'm warning you monsieur." The man said to his back. His voice had broken, probably with anxiety. Clearly Draco was the first to ever cause such a problem. Not that Draco was surprised, after all the Puddlemeres weren't the Wasps. If a simple teenage boy could simply waltz in through the Floo network, where dozens of celebrity Quidditch players were mucking about getting totally sloshed and all they had for security-Well that wasn't saying much now was it?

"Monsieur, you will step away from the entrance." The wizard sounded much more confidant all of a sudden. Draco turned slowly, his intuition telling him the pompus git had probably pulled out his wand.

Ah, well this did create a problem didn't it?

_'That's why they don't need bruting muscles at the fireplace.'_ Said the annoying little voice in his mind. _'They've gone a hired a charms major.'_

"Now see here," Said Draco slowly, enunciating his words carefully. "Do you know who I am?"

"What does zat matter?" Asked the wizard.

"For one, my name is Draco Malfoy. And my family-"

"Draco Malfoy? Zat zounds familiar..." The wizard repeated, and then with a glance to his enchanted list he smiled. "I apologize monsieur. I did not know zat you were on zee list."

Draco couldn't help blinking, being thrown through a loop did that to one sometimes. But he drew the line at repeating what the obnoxious prat had said. 

He was on the list.

Stepping into the ballroom Draco's dark sapphire eyes searched the crowd. The first, and reserve line of the Puddlemere United Quidditch team-with their guest of course- danced, sang along (very poorly) with the band on the stage which was probably induced by the fire whiskey and other assorted alcoholic beverages.

Passing by Edward Vanderbilt, the Keeper, who was sat at a far back table Draco barely paused. The only thing slowing him down was the fact that Vanderbilt was surrounded by at least five witches. It seemed that groupies would crowd around anyone nowadays. 

A judgmental sneer crossed his lips as he strode past, but less than a second later it faded away. Standing beside Raphsodel Cummings, Skye smiled broadly and Draco felt his adrenaline pump just a little faster as he watched her. 

As if answering his silent wish, his gaze followed her as she left Cummings's side and made her way across the room. Her robes glimmered in the enchanted lights like a dark jade as she glided across the floor. She was wearing his colour, which had to be a good sign.

With that bumbling git, Wood nowhere to be seen Draco smiled reassuringly to himself. He crossed over the room, as he had just watched her do moments before. When she did finally see him, her face did not react. Although her eyes did hint at surprised, she hide it well. With a punch table separating them, she lowered her glass.

"Can I have-help you?" She asked politely.

He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her request. A factual smile was forcing its way onto his lips whether he wanted it or not.

"Yes, perhaps you may." He replied returning the courteous tone. "I'm looking for a.... friend of mine. She's a small, short blond witch. Quite a beauty if I do say so myself."

Draco watched her eyes dart to one side, as they often did when she was embarrassed.

"She hasn't been answering my owls for over two weeks now."

"Two weeks? Really? Well then why don't you just Floo your way over there?" She made a movement to leave.

"See that's just the thing." Draco cut her off. "I don't actually know where she lives."

"How surprising." She replied unemotionally, although she faked a smile and polite wave to a witch passing by.

"And I was informed she might be attending this event." He persisted.

No reaction. 

"Any matter, I've grown quite **anxious**-"

There her eyes went again.

"Perhaps you've seen her? Answers to the name Skye." He finished.

"Sorry." Skye replied coldly. "Can't say that I have."

And with that she pushed her way past him and back into the dancing crowd of drunken Quidditch players.

"Bloody damnation." Draco cursed under his breath. After forcing his way back into the horde on the dance floor, he had been required to dance with a scrawny, bucktoothed witch in order to avoid Wood. And then her friend, and then another. By the time Draco managed to pull himself away from them, he had deduced they must be relatives of Pansy's.

Miraculously there she was, standing by the open balcony door. Hiding himself in the crowd he pushed his way through so that he was on the opposite side of the door, facing her. He watched her smile, and then say goodbye to one of the reserve team members.

As she stepped out onto the balcony he felt the wave of warm summer's air blow around him. The scent of summer pines with the undeniable aroma of fresh flowers mingled in the air. He heard her exhale deeply, and watched her shoulders roll. After spending an entire month studying her, whether she knew of his presence or not, Draco had noticed certain repetitive mannerisms. This type of body language meant relaxed, which meant it was time again to try. 

"So how many offers to 'ride some bloke's broomstick' have you gotten?" He drawled.

She turned, the expression on her face depicting her surprise. "You're the first."

"Now, now Miss Dumbledore. No lies." Draco drawled. "Where's your bodyguard?"

"He's my date." She said sharply.

Draco forced his face to remain neutral....however difficult the task might be.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"I don't know you tell me."

"Actually, now that I think about it.. That was a lie. I am surprised. In fact, I'm bloody well shocked."

"Well then, I'd appreciate it if you were shocked somewhere else." She replied curtly, and then turned her back to him.

"What's with the cold shoulder?" He asked taking a step forward he wrapped his arms around her. He let one hand trail down her bare shoulder. "It wasn't so cold in the head of underage wizarding's broom closet." He added, trying to sound curious when in all honesty, he was down right pissed. Some witches could be such teases...

He felt her hesitate. "I ask you to take your leave, Master Malfoy." Her voice was cold, and oddly distant.

"Is it Wood?"

"Why would you say that?" She scoffed quietly.

"Don't pretend like I don't know. Let me guess, you two are mates again so you can go back to following him around."

She flinched, but said nothing. As he watched her stare off into the distance, up to the starlit sky a thought struck him.

"But that's not the reason you've stopped talking to me, is it?" He asked slowly, pulling away and standing beside her.

Watching her carefully, he noticed her eyes darted to where her hands laid on the balcony railing.

"What is it?" He asked earnestly.

"It was a mistake." She said quietly.

"A mistake?" He repeated.

"Yes."

Who would have known one simple, tiny word had so much power. Draco looked away, and suddenly understood why she had found the night sky so interesting. The sky did not judge you. Did not know what would happen to you when you returned home to tell your father you had failed....

_'You've failed.'_ Said the voice in his mind. _'Your one task...And you failed.'_

"No." Draco breathed into the wind.

She turned startled, to face him. "No?"

"No." He confirmed. "I won't except this. I bloody well won't."

"This can't happen Draco." Said Skye gently. His name flowed softly from her lips, no longer a foreign word to her. "You and I both know it."

"No."

"This has to end."

"No."

"We can't do this."

"We, or just _you_?" He asked.

"What?"

"I said, we can't do this? Or just you can't?"

"Don't be absurd."

"I'm not." She replied stubbornly. She turned to face the scenery once more. A silence fell between them, and on Draco's part it felt like an eternity.

"You are so ignorant, you know that?" She asked irritated. Draco had to keep himself from smiling, he had hit a nerve. "You're a self absorbed, spoiled rotten prat, who's simply had everything handed to him on a silver platter."

"You're one to talk." He retorted. "You hide in a manor that you own, without any parents. Attending parties, being the socialite and pretending that you're the happiest person on earth when you're not! You put on masks to fool everyone so that they think you're smashingly dandy. But you're not....

"You feel nothing inside, and that scares you. That scares you more than having your friends and family know how you really are. And that's why you're breaking this off. Because you're afraid of feeling any that might remotely be emotion."

She said nothing at first, simply staring off into the sky. Finally, she broke the silence. "You're wrong."

"I'm what?" He asked.

A smile crossed her lips, although she wouldn't look at him. She shook her head and laughed quietly to herself. "You're wrong. I know this might come as somewhat of a shock, but you're wrong."

"No." Said Draco. "No, I think I'm right. I think I'm right, and that you're afraid because someone actually understands you. Not the you that you insist on pretending to be, but the real you. The one you think no one wants to see."

Inside, Draco could hear the band strike up a fast tune. The people danced, sang loudly and fumbled around, although Skye seemed completely oblivious to them. A tear trickled down her childlike face, but she still refused to pull her gaze away from the night sky.

"Admit it." Draco said quietly. Looking back on it, he would realize that it was this moment in his life that everything had started to slip away. Instead of caring merely about his success in reaching her, Draco found himself caring about the young witch who stood beside him...

"You're afraid of feeling anything because then someone might understand what you're so confused about."

She looked to him, staring deeply into his eyes as if trying to pierce into his soul. And for the moment, he did not care if they could. He returned the gaze, fixing his eyes in hers. Her entire body seemed to quiver as she stood beside him warm summer night. Her lips trembled, and he could not help but lean down and kiss them gently, to reassure her. 

  
At the time he had not known, nor could he have, that it had been a set up. That she was doing exactly the same as he. Infiltrating the enemy's side. 

And, as the year had passed slowly he had slipped. The pretend became reality. But he hadn't been alone. She had suffered the same fate of loosing herself in the happiness of her pretend life, but now…. He was alone. Cut out of the world he had been enjoying, and thrust back into the one he now detested. How much easier things were for her.... 

But looking back on it, through the lies, Draco knew that the night on the terrace had been nothing but the brutal honesty. That night was when his life had changed.

I still get lost in your eyes,

And it seems that

I can't live a day without you.

Closing my eyes and

You chase my thoughts away

To a place where,

I am blinded by the light,

But it's not right...

Goodbye to you,

Goodbye to everything

I thought I knew.

You were the one I loved,

The one thing that

I tried to hold on to....

---

Ha! Tis finished! I hope you enjoyed! So much ickle sweet romance it makes me sick. The scene with Narcissa came out horrible compared to what I had planned, but when I sat down I just couldn't seem to get it right so I opted for the easiest method. Insanity. Any road, please R&R.

"Can I have-help you?" <- Is a Xander Harris line from Buffy. Gotta 


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